Bloodless
by XxFearTheFluffxX
Summary: He held her eyes with his own and prayed to a God he couldn't be sure would listen even if He DID exist that she would read him like she used to and know his intentions. "I never meant to hurt you by keeping it a secret." he said stoically. ShikixRima
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't very often they received a new student in the Night Class. Not very often at all. All those who sympathised with Kuran Kaname's vision of a world where vampires and humans coexisted peacefully – or, to be more accurate, those who were too afraid or respectful _not_ to sympathise – already attended Cross Academy.

It was no surprise then, that the current students of the Night Class, as well as their appointed guardians, Cross Yuuki and Kiryuu Zero, were all a little wary of a newcomer so late in the school year. _Especially_ after the very recent Hiou Shizuka incident, which through unspoken consent was a subject all those involved avoided discussing – possibly the first, last and _only_ time Zero would ever agree with a vampire about _anything_.

The chairman, however, had assured them all in that bumbling, harebrained and totally unreliable way of his, that this time it was legit – though how he could know such a thing beyond the shadow of a doubt was outside anyone's comprehension. When 'politely asked' for some trivial details about the new arrival – name, age, previous affiliations and the like – Cross Kaien had simply refused to give any up to his naturally anxious students. It was a surprise, or so he claimed. One that they would have to trust him on.

"Besides!" the chairman had exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air exhaustedly as the grilling from his vampire students started to wear on his extraordinary wealth of patience. "If I told you anything it would be a breach of teacher-student confidentiality!"

Let's just say that this did _not_ inspire the confidence chairman Cross had hoped it would.

"_So breach it already!_" Aidou Hanabusa had hissed, stepping forward menacingly. As the least rational of the vampires at Cross Academy, he was the one who'd overreacted the most and, by extension, the one who'd been the loudest – although he was _normally_ the loudest anyway, so this last wasn't worthy of note.

Yuuki, who'd merely wanted to see if Zero had stopped by – he'd been slacking off _again_! – had looked from the chairman to Aidou-senpai and back again with a frown. She knew from experience how much of a hot-headed fool Aidou-senpai could be and that knowledge fuelled a nervous need to finger Artemis edgily; she prayed there would be no need to draw it, though truth be told she'd almost enjoy an excuse to beat the blonde pretty-boy about the ears.

"Aidou. That's enough." the steady, melodious tones of Kaname-senpai cut in, halting all fighting with but a few carefully articulated words. Yuuki glanced over at the calm and confident pureblood vampire gratefully and he treated her to one of those kind, enigmatic smiles of his – the ones that always made her blush, or stumble over her words like a fool. "If the chairman says it's safe, we should trust him."

"B-but Kaname-sama..." Aidou argued. He was silenced by a look from Kaname that spoke volumes. Volumes of _what, _exactly, was anyone's guess but everyone was aware that it wasn't pretty. Aidou, apparently deciding that today was a fine day to locate his usually absent sense of self-preservation, swallowed the rest of his dispute and bowed respectfully, one hand over his heart as was the custom. "Yes, Kaname-sama."

And so the matter had been dropped. The 'baby vamp', as Yuuki had affably referred to the mystery student during some light-hearted banter with Zero (banter that, unsurprisingly, was not received with much enthusiasm), had been permitted to enrol in Cross Academy's illustrious Night Class unobstructed. The buzz that had inevitably travelled through the Day Class like wild fire had long since died out when, in an irritable growl – the only way he knew how to deal with the 'Night Class Fan-Club' – Zero had informed the swooning girls that the new student was in fact female; now, all that remained of any _human_ interest attributed to the 'baby vamp', was a sort of formal curiosity. And of course, friendly anticipation on Yuuki's part – clearly, she hadn't learned her lesson from last time.

For the vampires themselves however, there was an almost electric brand of nervousness which sparked and fizzed through the patiently waiting classroom, affecting even the most unconcerned members of the class albeit in the smallest of ways. A twitch here, a sudden eye movement there. That sort of thing.

Kaname, though doing his utmost to appear un-fazed – and succeeding for the most part – couldn't help but turn rapidly in the direction of any unexpected or unnatural sound which happened to occur this evening. As a pureblood, it was _highly_ unlikely that anyone who walked through that door tonight would be capable of harming _him –_ or anyone else in the room for that matter, if he decided it was not in his interests to allow such a thing. The question of his own safety was hardly something in need of consideration. But nonetheless he was set slightly on edge, more concerned with the distinct possibility that the new student would _not_ enter the classroom soon – for if that were to happen he would be in no doubt as to where this mysterious stranger _was_, and he wasn't fully trusting of Zero's ability to protect Yuuki himself just yet.

If there was _anyone_ who wasn't at _all_ jittery this evening, it would be Shiki Senri and perhaps, on a lesser scale, Touya Rima. Shiki, who since an age he was almost to old to remember anymore had been taught to live as little more than a moving doll – a _puppet_, to use his oppressor's term – was indulging in his favourite snack as if it were any other boring, pointless and bothersome day of the week. The chocolate coated biscuit stick hung from between his pale lips like a lengthy cigarette, bobbing slightly as he methodically chewed his way through it. His icy blue eyes betrayed nothing – at least nothing that anyone could _read_ – and to the eye of an impartial observer he was totally at peace. That is, if you could consider indolent-enough-to-border-on-being-a-corpse a form of peace.

Rima too, although less composed than Shiki by far – not a difficult achievement considering most who met him were _convinced_ his only facial expression was one of boredom bordering on sheer lethargy – seemed quite unaffected by the prospect of a new vampire in their midst as well, her disinterested frown directed, as usual, at nothing in particular. True, she was... tensely inquisitive, for want of a better description; but there were few things in this world that could _really _make her fret and this just wasn't one of them. Frankly, she was more concerned about her rapidly diminishing pocky supply. Not helped, of course, by Shiki's insatiable appetite for the sweet treat.

"I wonder," Souen Ruka mused suddenly, breaking the terse quiet in a voice saturated with that natural haughtiness of hers. "what this new girl is like..." she finished, brushing a stray strand of her dusky blonde hair behind her ear.

The others turned to where she leant casually against one of the desks by the window, gazing rigidly through the spotless glass as though expecting a shrouded figure to appear from the cloak of the night, just like in the horror stories humans seemed to enjoy. Her caramel brown eyes were slightly narrowed, betraying her absolute distrust of the student though she had yet to meet her. No one was particularly stunned to see this; Ruka was, after all, essentially a stubborn and highly judgemental woman.

"Who can say?" Kain Akatsuki drawled, his deep voice resonating with a harmony he didn't wholly feel. His hands, stuffed in the pockets of his white Night Class uniform, were bunched into tight, anxious fists and his left foot twitched marginally now and then in a display one could – if one had sharp enough eyes to catch it – take only to be discomfort with the situation. "At this point, does it even matter? Whoever she is, she's enrolled now and that's that."

"Yeah, well as soon as she walks through that door I'm gonna lay down the law!" Aidou grumbled hotly, arms crossed tightly over his chest, pouting like a child who'd had their toys taken away. "It won't be like last time; whatever plans she's got, she'd better just forget 'em!"

"You're so sure she'll _have_ plans." Ichijou observed, green eyes bright with excited anticipation. He was the only one amongst them who was actually looking forward to having a new classmate and the only one with even an iota of faith in their unnamed sister. "Ever heard the phrase 'innocent until proven guilty'?"

"Since when has any vampire ever been 'innocent'?" Aidou countered, his left fang peeking over the corner of his lip in a smug smirk. "That girl's as guilty as sin, mark my words."

"Enough. She'll be here soon and whatever else she may or may not be, she is our comrade until she proves otherwise." Kaname silenced them, sensing an argument. Or rather, knowing from experience that when Aidou was involved an argument was sure to ensue. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you all that I expect nothing short of proper manners when addressing her."

"Yes, Kaname-sama." the other vampires intoned, reverent respect for their pureblood leader evident in each of their tones. Or perhaps it was fear. Even after all these years, Kaname could never tell whether it was respect or fear the majority of the vampire community spoke to him with. Sometimes he wondered whether it really made a difference.

For all his chivalry in defending the new girl's honour, Kaname was just as concerned over her true motives as his underlings were – perhaps even more so, given that he had his own motives to be watching out for. If need be, he was certain he could deal with her well before it ever got to the point where any _real_ damage was done, but intimidation and oppression were not how he liked to run things. At least not at first.

"Hey... Do you hear that?" Rima questioned placidly, cocking her blonde, pigtailed head in the direction of the door, a look of impartial apathy on her smooth, pale face. Even as she spoke, her total disregard for the situation was highlighted by the almost careless act of sticking a further two pocky sticks into the expectant Shiki's mouth without even looking – such was the fine art she had made of feeding her best friend the chocolatey sticks.

The others hushed and listened carefully, all except Shiki, who merely continued eating his sweets with an expression of jaded tedium. After a few seconds' curious inspection of the door, beyond which the steady clip, clip, clip of well shod feet could be discerned, Rima returned her attentions to the russet haired boy who, this evening, leant casually against her knees as he did most evenings. In her stoic, almost icy way, she found the sound of his systematic crunching a far more endearing sound to listen to and his boyish, charming features _much_ more engaging to look at.

Not to be misunderstood, as Rima was certain such a confession _would_ be were she ever to share it; she didn't enjoy these things – watching him, listening to him – in the same way the girls from the Day Class enjoyed these things. Rima would very much rather not be grouped with the likes of _those_ shallow, simpering fools, who knew the male Night Class students no better than they knew the Emperor of Peru and yet were not above falling all over in pathetic, half-baked ideas of _love_. Rima on the other hand, found Shiki to be a remarkable specimen, fascinating in ways she neither understood nor cared to explore but knew had almost _nothing_ to do with his looks. She found his attitude to the world in general refreshing and, she would admit, it was very much true that she was attracted to him and cared for him deeply – but for _her_ it was different, because she actually _knew_ Shiki.

For Shiki's part, it gave him comfort to be around Rima because she was quite like him in many ways. The others, although fond of him in their own ways and understanding of him to an extent, could never connect with him on the level that Rima did – his cold, oblivious exterior threw many people off, vampire or otherwise, but Rima – because she too was cold and oblivious – could relate to him. He liked that. To have a friend who was on _exactly_ the same page as him for once was a pleasant change and so he'd _allowed_ her to get closer to him. The closeness of their relationship, which had now progressed to them being nigh inseparable, was obvious in the small things they were able to do together; eating pocky, modelling and – on occasion, when the blood pills just weren't cutting it – a little blood donation.

So to them it hardly mattered who joined the class today. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Those things were inconsequential so long as it didn't interfere in _their_ affairs.

At long last – it felt, to the vampires, like they had waited an age and more for this moment – the classroom door swung open gently, and in the entrance stood a silhouetted figure of small build. The figure was undoubtedly female, as they had been told she would be – this, the only figment of information they'd managed to squeeze from the chairman, had weighed heavily on their minds all week, especially in light of the _last _female student who'd joined their class – and her limbs were willowy and weak looking; bony, like she'd been starved for months on end but had yet to die. Her head was hung in a fashion that made her appear sad or repentant – or both, no one was quite sure which – and her mid-length hair, russet coloured and not unlike Shiki's, fell about her scrawny shoulders in a dull-crimson curtain.

The same, collective impression of the girl ran through the majority of minds at that moment; _she looked like someone walking their last mile to the gallows._

**I've been working on this story for a while now – it came to me quite suddenly after watching Vampire Knight for the first time – and I've decided to post it. I wasn't sure whether I would or not since I didn't know if I could do the idea justice, but after reading it over a few times I've discovered I'm quite happy with the way it's turned out. **

**I'll let you all in on a little secret, shall I? Actually, I'm almost finished this entire story. That's right. I'm almost finished the entire thing! :P Which of course means that updates will be regular with perhaps an update every few days. The reason for this is that it was originally going to be a oneshot but when I got to the region of about 12, 000 words I decided it was too long to be a oneshot. **


	2. Chapter 2

The girl raised her head to reveal two dead-looking, red-brown eyes and met the gazes of each of the Night Class students in turn, seeming to accuse them of something they could only guess at. More disconcerting than this was the cauldron of seething hatred they saw buried deeply there, a loathing that burned fiercely for each and every one of them.

The girl's skin, pale as chalk – not, in itself, a particularly striking attribute since _most_ vampires tended to have pale skin – had an unhealthy pastel glow to it, like the skin of someone who was chronically ill; ninety percent of the Night Class were increasingly coming to believe that was indeed the case. This anaemic luminosity was not at all helped by the white uniform she donned, proving beyond reasonable doubt that she _was_ the new Night student.

Taking the initiative, mainly because no one else was likely to, Kaname welcomed the new girl with a warm, if distrusting smile. He made no move towards her, some inner sense telling him she would not receive such a gesture well, and instead settled for a pleasant nod and a greeting which was a good deal more respectful than it really _had _to be. As a pureblood, respect was something he needn't bother with when dealing with lower class vampires such as this girl, but it was a small favour he afforded those loyal enough to his cause to attend Cross Academy. Thus far he'd seen nothing suggesting the girl did _not_ support his vision, so he would treat her with the same regard.

"Welcome to Cross Academy's Night Class," he said amiably, not liking how the girl's eyes seemed to flicker just momentarily with an emotion close to revulsion before becoming static once again.

She didn't reply, but continued to allow her eyes to rove the room, taking in the sight of the other students, the desks, the boards at the front and the windows lining the far wall, through which she could see the moon high in the night sky and the shadowed trees of the school grounds. Then her eyes fell on Shiki Senri and something _definitely_ flashed in those bottomless orbs of hers; something _not_ pleasant. Something that made Rima unconsciously put a small hand on his shoulder and pull him back, further onto her knees, while she prepared to leap over his head and stand between him and the girl at the slightest provocation.

_Who _is_ this girl? _Rima thought suspiciously, hating the way she looked at Shiki with that heavy murderous intent in her eye.

Rima was well aware that Shiki was plenty able – more so than _many _she knew – to defend himself and, should this stranger make any move to harm him, he could fight back on even footing at the _very _least; although given the girl's frail appearance, such a fight would be _anything_ but equal. There never _had_ been and probably never _would_ be a time when Shiki needed _her_ to help him. All the same she felt a flash of protective aggression wash over her, and would need no more than a twitch from the female in his direction to justify frying her with a good dose of electricity.

Shiki felt Rima's quiet hostility and patted the hand she'd placed on his shoulder reassuringly, maintaining that blank, emotionless façade everyone knew so well. No one would know, from his outward appearance, that anything was wrong and in many ways that was just how he liked it. In times like these especially, he found his upbringing as a 'puppet' to be quite useful; it meant no one could see what effect the girl's presence was having on him.

The second he'd seen her walk through the door, the guilt and pain he'd put such extra special care into sealing away hit him like a tsunami. He'd have gasped, if he could. Cried out perhaps. But the time when Shiki Senri had been capable of these outward displays of emotion were long ago and far away, and for his own sake (and more importantly, Rima's) he intended to keep it that way.

The girl averted her gaze and there was the unmistakable choked puff of a derisive snort before she entered the room fully and made her slow, graceful, _doll-like_ way to the far corner of the room – which, through no coincidence, happened to be the corner farthest from the other students. She said nothing, not deigning to pay anyone any further attention – not even Kaname, the pureblood who had actually _spoken_ to her – sitting herself in her chosen spot with her knees tucked firmly up to her chin, where she rested her head weakly. She looked so vulnerable there in that dark corner, even if the overall effect was marred by the twisted contours of a sneer, easily definable on her face.

Shiki wondered – as he attempted to smother the growing sickly feeling in his gut that came whenever he'd dared to so much as _think_ of this girl before now – if this was what humans meant when they used that phrase, 'a blast from the past'. Quite literally, he felt as though he'd been blown up from the inside and – as one would expect – it was not the most pleasant of feelings.

Naturally, Rima sensed his distress and glanced at the back of his head with questioning eyes of ice. He could feel them burning his skull and scouring his soul for an answer – something only _she_ could have any hope of doing. Not wanting to trouble her with things that ought trouble no one but _him,_ he kept his face – and his _eyes_ – turned away from her. She was much too adept at reading him for her own good; this didn't concern Rima and he didn't want it to. It was strictly him and the girl. No one else.

"It's customary to introduce yourself to your peers, _new girl_." Ruka spat venomously, her already bleak opinion of the girl further soiled by her blatant lack of manners and respect. The girl lifted her head briefly in the fiery blonde vampire's direction, those eyes of hers deep pits of emptiness, shielding a torrent of the purest abhorrence. Ruka, despite her stubborn disposition, flinched from the intensity of that glare as though it had physically burned her.

The girl saw this and a sadistic smirk stretched her pallid features, pulling her skin taut in what could only be described as an expression of unadulterated _evil_. Even by _their_ standards – and the Night Class had, collectively, seen _a lot_ of scary stuff in their time – it was a frightening look. But if that was bad, the high pitched gurgling sound that most of the class assumed to be the girl giggling manically was downright chilling. Never had any of them heard such a simultaneously pained yet wicked sound before; it was unnatural and, if they were telling the truth, _terrifying_.

Even Kaname – though outwardly he appeared composed, as was expected of a vampire of his standing – felt a tremor of unease at the strangled laugh emanating from the new student's tiny, folded form. The inexplicable but overriding need to take control of the situation pulsed through him and in a voice full of authority, he addressed the new student once more.

"Ruka is correct; it's courtesy to introduce yourself when entering the midst of new comrades. So, new girl; your name, please."

Now it was the girl's turn to recoil, and recoil she did – she scowled at the pureblood hatefully, looking for all the world as if he'd just slapped her. Then, in a voice soft and sweet which belied her inner wrath, she spoke for the very first time, defiance in her tone and eyes even though she _must_ have known who he was and what he could do to her.

Kaname was stricken, quite suddenly, by the notion that she spoke so belligerently in an insane hope that he _would_ kill her for her insolence: she _wanted_ to die. As soon as the thought occurred he knew it was true. And he vowed to himself silently that he would not be so quick as to give her what she wanted – he may not enjoy ruling by intimidation but he wasn't above exploiting weaknesses.

"Ask _him_." her feathery reply came, so very quiet and yet echoing through the room more effectively than if she'd shouted it. She jerked her head – a movement that looked painful, her bones cracking loudly like several whips – at Shiki, a small malignant smirk playing around her thin pink lips. "_You'll _tell the nice pureblood who I am. Won't you... _Senri_?"

Rima bristled angrily on the inside but outside her only reaction was to narrow her eyes slightly. The way that girl had just said Shiki's name... Rima wasn't sure what it was, or _why_, but there was something about it she _really_ didn't like. The way her mouth formed the syllables... like his name was a long forgotten secret... or else some password to treasures unknown. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but Rima decided that she did _not_ like this troublemaker one little bit.

Shiki said nothing. He stared deep into the girl's eyes and saw therein that the girl _he'd_ known was dead, buried beneath layers of hurt, betrayal and hatred that had grown in their time apart. Layers that, for all he'd wanted to stop it, _he'd _put there. It was true, Shiki Senri knew very well who this girl was; or who she _had_ been. And it tore him apart to see her this way.

"You haven't been eating, have you?" he asked casually, ignoring her question in favour of his own. Every pair of eyes was now on him including – most profoundly – Rima's. She squeezed his shoulder, communicating her confusion and worry in a way that he understood perfectly; there was rarely a need for words between them. But for now, at least, he didn't react. Right now his immediate attentions were focused on the new student.

The girl glared furiously, a flash of rage glinting in her red eyes before fading once more to an empty nonchalance. Her lips twisted in an ironic smile and she shrugged her shoulders, the bones jutting horribly as she did, making her look like a skeleton. And in one way she _was_; she was a skeleton from Shiki's closet, one he would have preferred _not_ to be forced to examine.

"Of course I have." she smirked cruelly, enjoying, it seemed to Shiki, the minuscule spark of hurt in his eyes at her denial. "I eat three meals a day and I _always_ eat my vegetables. Aren't you proud of me, Senri?"

"You know what I meant." he shot back, stoic but starting to grow frustrated. "You haven't been drinking blood; how long has it been since your last?"

"A month. Maybe two. Or three. Who can say?" she dismissed indifferently, watching him carefully. It was almost as if she were _daring_ him... but daring him to do what, he couldn't say. "The days are so continuous to me now... I hardly know where one starts and the other begins."

"If you go without blood much longer you'll die. You know that, right?"

At this the girl's attitude shifted unexpectedly. Instead of the bitter, contemptuous student who'd entered the room, she became abruptly melancholic, her eyes shimmering with sad acceptance for the fate she had chosen for herself. It was obvious to everyone now, with the exchange between her and Shiki out in the open, that ultimately she had every intention of dying; she had somehow come to hate herself, her_ race_, _that_ much.

"Better to die," she whispered, laying her head back on her knees as if she no longer had the strength to hold it up – entirely possible given the revelation that she was slowly starving to death. "than to live on in this deplorable form. Better to die than live as a vampire any longer."

"Was it him?" Shiki pressed, still sounding calm and collected, though Rima _knew_ he was becoming increasingly upset with the results of this conversation. "Is he the one who made you think this way?"

"You know it's not, Senri." the girl muttered. Her voice was getting fainter, like she was drifting into a deep sleep. Her head lolled jerkily on her knees and she struggled to keep it balanced there; it was obvious to all that the lack of blood was making her blackout. The excitement must have put too great a strain on her. "He held no more sway over my decisions than you did."

Still Shiki didn't let up. "So what then? What's made you decide to do this to yourself?"

"That's for..._ me,_ Senri. You left me behind... a long... time ago. You have _no_ right... to ask such... things... of me..."

As her sentence dwindled to a barely perceptible sigh, her body slouched to the left, her mind shutting down and fading into the oblivion of fatigue induced sleep.

"Seiren." Kaname commanded, watching the girl's slumped form with a regretful frown. He'd seen this kind of thing happen before – and to vampires far greater than she – whereupon their lifestyle simply became too much and the vampire refused to live anymore. Some killed themselves through the vampire hunters, deliberately breaking the law in order to have their names added to the list; others did the job themselves; some, a _very_ small percentage, starved themselves of blood to the point where they simply withered away. It was _not_ a pleasant way to go; it was exceptionally painful and required herculean willpower to pull off. Kaname had found that these particular vampires were driven by an abnormally strong desire to become human. What troubled him most, however, was what had happened to make a vampire so _young_ choose to die this way – to die at all, even.

"Yes, sir?" Seiren replied promptly, appearing next to him as if she'd been there all along. But for the barely perceptible lift in her short, pale lilac hair, it would appear exactly so. Her features – as usual – were startlingly empty, even for a vampire. She was, perhaps, the only Night Class member who could outdo Shiki when it came to pulling a poker-face. Her eyes, likened in colour to her hair if a smidgen darker, were not so empty as the rest of her face, holding a wealth of subtle cunning and well-hidden observance.

"Take this girl to a spare room in the Moon Dorms, please." he instructed, studying Shiki with quiet scrupulousness, who was still watching the girl thoughtfully. Kaname was no mind reader – for all his wonderful gifts, mind reading wasn't among them – but he had a feeling the girl's deteriorating health _hurt_ his underling in some way. It didn't show; Shiki was a master at hiding things, much like Seiren was. But Kaname had a way with hunches and this time he had a feeling he was right. In whatever manner Shiki and the girl were connected, it was – or had been – a strong bond.

Seiren bowed and bent to pick the girl up, lifting her as easily as if she were little more than a paperweight. Without tarrying, she left, headed for the Moon Dorms as she'd been told, intent on carrying out her orders – as she always did – to the letter.

… **Told you they'd be fast. Another one up already!**


	3. Chapter 3

"I think you have some explaining to do, Shiki." Kaname addressed the brooding red-head. He said it softly, kindly; it was an invitation and a request, not an order. Though he led them and controlled them to an extent where the drinking (or _not_ drinking as it were) of blood and other such forbidden activities within Cross Academy were concerned, Kaname was not a tyrant. He didn't feel the need to know his subordinates' every move nor their pasts if it was something they chose not to share. But, if it was their want, he would listen to their tales. "Who was that girl? What is she to you?"

Shiki was silent for a moment, watching the door through which Seiren had taken the girl with a look somewhere between regret and irritation. Kaname actually thought he wasn't going to answer; that he would leave without telling them anything. And perhaps, for a second, he _considered_ it. But at last, after a deep breath which was two parts resignation and one part exhaustion, he turned away from the door and told them what he knew.

"Her name is Yomoriko. _Shiki_ Yomoriko." he revealed, remaining completely unattached as he said it. Amid shocked gasps from most, surprised stares from some and hurt, confused scrutiny from Rima, he went on to explain. "She's my younger sister. _Half_-sister, I should say; we have the same father but different mothers... I thought she was dead already..."

"Different mothers?" Rima queried, doing her best to conceal how upset she was that he'd never mentioned the existence of his little sister before. They were best friends, right? Didn't he think he could trust her? Why would he keep something so big from her? She told _him_ everything, not that there was much _to_ tell. What reason could he have to hide something _this_ huge? "But her name is Shiki? I thought Shiki was your mother's name?"

"It is." Shiki affirmed, sensing Rima's unhappiness but unable to bring himself to face her just yet. He knew she thought he'd betrayed her somehow by not telling her about Yomoriko. And he guessed he kind of _had_; he'd been selfish in keeping the presence of his little sister a secret from everyone. But it had been too painful for him to talk about – to even _think_ about. He hadn't, at the time, thought about what it might do to the people he cared about most (_Rima...) _if the time came when he was forced to confront his past like this. Granted he'd believed his sister to be dead all these years but even so... He should have said something, at _least_ to Rima.

With a sigh he moved away from Rima's lap, wandering to the window across the way so that he could better see the moon's calming visage. There was something about that big pale disc that always managed to settle his nerves no matter how _bad_ things were. He owed them a decent explanation. Short of that he'd just have to hope they'd understand... and forgive him for not mentioning it sooner.

"My dad... whoever he is... isn't what you'd call a 'family man'; in fact, from what I've heard he falls miles short of being a man at all."

Shiki sighed before continuing, weary already from delving into the deepest, darkest memories of his childhood in order to provide his friends with the information they deserved.

"When my mother fell pregnant with me my father left her for another woman – Yomoriko's mom – and within the year she fell pregnant too. She was strong willed, Yomoriko's mother – she wasn't intimidated by my dad like _my_ mom was.

"Apparently, shortly after Yomoriko was born they had a fight one night – a big one – and he killed her on a whim. That's the official story anyway. I wouldn't be surprised if the _truth_ was he overfed on her blood; he was renowned for that, so I was told...

"Rather than look after Yomoriko himself he brought her to my mother and left her with us... For all my mother's faults she's a kind-hearted woman; she raised Yomoriko like her own, giving her the Shiki name and telling people she was her daughter if they asked. The three of us lived together pretty happily, I guess. Yomoriko and I were as close as a brother and sister _should_ be and mom loved taking care of us... But then..."

_\/\/\/\/\/ - Many Years Ago – Senri 6, Yomoriko 5 - \/\/\/\/\/_

_ "Onii-sama! Look! Look, Onii-sama!" a small voice of excitement squealed from the window. Senri looked up from his colouring book at his little sister's bright smile and couldn't help but smile in return. She was pointing through the panes of the frosty glass window into their huge front garden, at the feathers of white which fell slowly from the grey-white sky above to lay thickly on the cold ground like a carpet._

_ "It's snowing, Onii-sama! Can you see it? Can you?" Yomoriko persisted, hopping down from the window and grabbing her big brother's arm. She pulled him to his feet and up to her 'watching spot' – the place where she said she liked to watch the world go by – and he went willingly, indulging in her childish enthusiasm as always, letting her have her way because he didn't have the heart to deny her._

_ "I see it, Yomo!" he laughed, patting her little head fondly and gazing with her at the white flakes making their lazy way to earth. "It sure is pretty, huh? Do you wanna go build a snowman now? I promised we would, didn't I?"_

_ "Oh _yes_, Onii-sama! Can we? Can we, can we, can we?!"_

_ "Okay, okay! I'll tell mom we're going out, so you get your coat and stuff on – I don't want you to catch a cold." Senri grinned, giving her a brotherly hair-ruffle before running off to find their mother. _

_ It didn't take long to find her – she was in the kitchen preparing a lunch of potato and leek soup for them. Whenever they needed her and she wasn't around she was _usually_ in the kitchen cooking. She _loved_ to cook for them. It made her feel good to know they were eating properly, or so she said. Made her feel like she was doing a good job of taking care of them. It was better, _even_, than the feeling she used to get when she was a famous actress; that feeling of being loved by many millions all over the world – to her the love of her children meant more than the love of her adoring fans._

_ "Hey mom, Yomo and I are going out to build a snowman, 'kay?" Senri told her, attempting to dip his finger into the pot behind her back as she chopped the leeks with pinpoint precision on the counter. Without turning his mother reached across and slapped his hand with her wooden spoon, chuckling as he shook it in surprise. She bent and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, smiling indulgently like the happiest mother in the world._

_ "Okay sweetie. Make sure you both wrap up warm and be back in an hour for lunch." she waved him off, turning to stir her concoction using the spoon she'd hit him with. Before he could cross the threshold she called him to a stop, sounding tense and serious for the briefest second. "And Senri?"_

_ "Yeah?"_

_ His mother visibly hesitated before smiling again, a smile that was a little too big and earnest to possibly be a hundred percent real. "Don't talk to strangers. If you meet any... _run_." she told him; the same mantra she'd been repeating since they'd been old enough to talk. _

_ "Sure thing, mom."_

_ Sometime later, as the snow settled in their hair like tiny white flies before melting and disappearing again, they started on their way back to the house. Yomoriko's cheeks were red from the cold – they'd long since finished their snowman and he'd stood watch over their naïve fun, donning Senri's hat and Yomoriko's scarf. They'd laughed, chasing each other around the yard, throwing snowballs and tackling each other to the ground; they'd made snow angels with long, spreading wings and flowing dresses; they'd played hide and seek, concealing themselves beneath drifts of snow like polar bears. And now, at last, cold, wet and content, they made their way home, ambling through the bare trees towards food, warmth and an evening spent laughing together._

_ But from nowhere – or so it appeared to their young, easily-influenced eyes – a stranger appeared, standing casually between them and the safety of home like the gatekeeper from one of Senri's favourite books. It was a man, tall and slim, with skin as pale as the snow in which they played. His hair was black, his eyes brown and from his mouth they could see gleaming, elongated fangs peeking over his lips. Another vampire, they knew at once – a thought that _didn't_ fill them with reassurance._

_ Senri, eagerly taking on his role as elder sibling and protector to his sister, stepped in front of Yomoriko to shield her from view. He had a bad feeling about this stranger; remembering his mother's words the pair backed away slowly, keeping a close eye on the man as he slowly approached lest he make any sudden movements. But before they could get far enough to truly flee he spoke to them._

_ "Good day, children. I'm a friend of your father's; the name's Rusuke. He sent me here to bring you to him – he so _longs_ to meet you."_

_ His words, although innocent enough in meaning, struck a chord of pure fear in Senri's little chest, making his small heart beat faster, the blood pounding heavily in his ears. He'd heard stories about his father from his mother; stories that painted him as a dark monster of frightful proportions, evil to the core. He had no desire to meet such a man. _

_ Yomoriko, it would seem, wasn't thrilled at the thought of meeting him either, a small frightened squeak escaping her chilled lips. She tugged insistently on Senri's sleeve, pulling him backwards with her even as the strange man advanced on them._

_ "Come now, Senri-kun, Yomoriko-chan; surely you wouldn't deny your father the right to see his son and daughter, would you?" the man grinned, a sadistic tint to his menacing aura that the siblings only _now_ began to appreciate._

_ "R-run, Yomo!" Senri cried, his nerve breaking. He turned and, like his mother had told him to, ran away from the stranger who by this point he knew could only mean trouble. He dragged Yomo behind him, her slightly smaller stride struggling to keep up with his panicked, boyish one but doing pretty well given the circumstances._

_ They ran like the devil himself was at their heels. But it wasn't good enough. They _were_ only children after all and the man, whoever he was, was a fully matured vampire, in his prime and no doubt freshly acquainted with a supply of human blood._

_ A hand closed on the furry hood of Yomoriko's coat and she fell to the snow covered ground choking, half from the pain and shock of near strangulation and half from fear and a helpless sobbing which had started at some point during their flight, though Senri hadn't noticed until now. Senri stopped, inevitably, and turned back to retrieve his little sister from the clutches of the man – how he should go about doing so, he didn't know. He only knew that he _must.

_ "Let her go!" Senri cried reaching for his sister, whose small arms fumbled helplessly for him from the strong, immobilising grip of the stranger. "Let Yomo go, you jerk!"_

_ "I can't do _that,_ Senri-kun. Your father wishes to meet you both – _you_ in particular." the man replied, adopting that condescending, patronising tone of voice adults sometimes used when explaining something relatively complex to a child._

_ "I don't care! _I_ don't wanna meet _him_!" Senri screeched, swiping for Yomo's hand again and missing when the man spun her away from him, treating her for all the world like little more than a rag doll. "Yomoriko!"_

_ "He'd be so _upset_ to hear you say that. But that's alright. Not to worry, Senri-kun; you'll have _plenty_ of time to make up for such a cruel remark when we get there."_

_ This time the man jerked forward and grabbed Senri's forearm, fingers digging painfully into his soft flesh, almost touching the bone through the flimsy covering of skin. Senri yelped in pain but struggled fiercely, pulling with all his might against the iron hold of his father's henchman to no avail. The man's grip tightened and kept on tightening until Senri thought he might pass out from the flares of agony shooting up his arm. Then, like an almighty clap of thunder, there was a loud, ominous 'CRACK'..._

_ In the seconds that followed the cracking sound there was silence, the sort that forewarned a storm. Yomoriko stopped crying to look at her brother, an expression of absolute horror on her face as she – like everyone else – realised what had happened. Her tear stained face drained of all colour while the man watched with sick, twisted pleasure, _waiting_ for something..._

_ Senri glanced at his arm, the one the man held tight to, in astonished, uncomprehending wonder. It was bent at a peculiar angle now, deep red liquid oozing freely into the thick fabric of his winter coat and dripping to the snow covered ground where it hissed – a sound imperceptible to the human ear – melting a little of the flurry before cooling sufficiently to settle like fallen rose petals on the surface. _

_ Then came the pain. A torrent of sheer agony which very nearly knocked him out completely; his arm – which was undoubtedly broken – seemed to burn, throb, sting and ache all at the same time. He was only a child, a six year old who by and large had lived a moderately sheltered life up till now – he had _never_ felt such pain as he felt in that moment. So he did the only thing he could be expected to do – he screamed. He screamed at the top of his lungs as tortured tears spilled over his eyes unchecked. Screamed until he thought his voice-box might explode. _

_ Yomoriko started to cry again too, this time not from fear for herself or of the big scary stranger but from fear for her elder brother, whom she idolised to the extent where she'd previously thought it impossible for anything to make him cry. He was too strong to cry. He was supposed to be her hero – the one who saved her when she needed saving. It shook her to see him in such a state._

_ "Come now, children. You're vampires! Something like this shouldn't affect you at all!" the man exclaimed, thoroughly enjoying the situation by the sounds of it. "Why, when I was your age I- ARRRGGGHHH!"_

_ His speech was cut off by his _own_ cry of pain and suddenly Senri found himself on his bottom in the snow, his broken arm jarring painfully in the fall and making him cry out again. Gritting his teeth he looked up through tear-blurred eyes to the man and his sister... who had her teeth, fangs and all, clamped firmly on the hand that held her hood. Her eyes started to glow red, the blood-lust taking her as it took all vampires when they tasted that red elixir – without reservations. She didn't drink but she didn't release his arm either and Senri understood that she'd done it to make the man let go of him._

_ Wasting no time while Rusuke struggled to unhinge Yomoriko's jaws from his hand, Senri got to his feet with difficulty using his remaining good arm as a prop and started to run mindlessly in the direction of the house. His brain was fogged with pain, confusion and fear – he didn't have room left in his tiny body for concern over his little sister any more. He just ran and kept running, cradling his broken arm against his chest like a baby._

_ Behind him he could still hear struggles; Yomoriko struggling against her captor's grip while her captor struggled against her powerful bite. At last, it would seem, the man managed to get her off him because across the frozen garden as Senri stumbled woodenly up the front steps of their house, he heard her call to him in terror, panic and helpless desperation._

_ "Onii-sama!!! Don't go! Don't leave me! Onii-sama!!! ONII-SAMA!!!"_

_ Then he was inside with the front door closed, blocking all sound from the outside world as he slid to the floor with his back against the smooth wood, as though expecting the man to invade his home – and, truth be told, he half _did. _But as he sat there in agony, his tired, erratic panting echoing through the entrance hall, amplified by the room's large emptiness (his mother had never believed in collecting trinkets), it dawned on him what he'd just done._

_ Shiki Senri had just abandoned his little sister to save his own miserable hide. He'd left her behind even though she had put herself at terrible risk by biting their captor – something, he realised wincing, she would probably pay dearly for sooner or later – just to free him. And he hadn't done the same in return. He'd repaid her courage, her love for him, with cowardice. He'd run away when she needed him most. And regardless of how much he desperately wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to go back out there and save her. He wasn't brave enough... and that knowledge _killed_ him inside. _

_ When his mother came upon him not much later – she'd heard his sobs and breathless whimpers – she didn't ask what had happened. She didn't ask where Yomoriko was. She didn't even ask how he'd broken his arm. She merely picked him up and carried him to her car, sliding him into the back and putting his seatbelt on while he continued to wail piteously. As they left the front garden Senri looked over to the last place he'd seen his sister, confirming with a sinking heart that she was long gone, along with the man Rusuke._

_ At the hospital Senri eventually calmed himself, the drugs working wonders on the pain while the doctors fussed around discussing surgery and the like._

_ "Bones all crushed..." one said._

_ "May lose the arm," said another._

_ He didn't care. He thought only of Yomoriko and how he'd betrayed her so completely in a matter of seconds. His mother had been quiet ever since finding him and – though he couldn't know it at the time – this was to be the beginning phase for her downward spiral. By the end of it – when she would at last hit rock-bottom – she would barely be able to even brush her own hair. _

_ It wasn't until many months after this event that Rusuke at last came back, this time entering the house itself. Senri had stood frozen in the hallway, his mother clinging to him like a lifeline – she, like himself, thought the man had come back to take him as well. But he didn't. He merely gave them a message, one that would haunt Senri from then on, lacing all his dreams and turning them to dark nightmares._

_ "If you want your sister to stay safe you should live as a puppet from now on."_

_\/\/\/\/\/ Present \/\/\/\/\/\/_

And he had. He truly had. A small price to pay for deserting Yomoriko that way. Even after all this time, when the journey to adulthood had shown him such terrible things that the notion that Yomoriko could be _alive_ seemed like an impossibility, some small part of him – the shadow of the man he _might_ have become – had clung to the hope that his sister would still be alive and well somewhere. For that wish Shiki had destroyed himself from the inside out, slowly working away to become the puppet he was now. But now, seeing Yomoriko this way, Shiki fully understood that it had been inherently selfish of him to desire such a thing – after all, hadn't he himself seen that death wasn't the _worst_ thing that could happen to a person?

Seeing her again – not at all the bright fifteen year old he would have imagined her as, had he the guts over the years to imagine her at all – brought back painful memories of that day, as if he were reliving the whole experience all over again. The screams, both his own and Yomoriko's, rung in his ears like incessant bells; Rusuke's malignant grin as his arm snapped clean in two like so much brittle tinder flashed hot against his eyes; his mother's slowly deepening descent into madness played itself in his mind like a horror movie for which he could not find the stop button.

And for all that, for everything that was going on in his mind, Shiki appeared to the rest of the class to be as distant and empty as before Yomoriko had even entered the room. Even Kaname was a little nonplussed as to how he could _possibly_ remain so calm when the sister he hadn't seen in ten years – who by rights should be _dead_ – had just ambled back into his life as she had. Further, she was on the brink of starvation, subjecting herself to a fate that not even the most crazed vampires her age would consider – assuming there were any other fifteen year old vampires out there who _wanted_ to die.

Needless to say the Night Class was mostly silent for the rest of the evening; no one knew what to say in light of recent events. Even Aidou, the resident playboy of Cross Academy, had decency enough to hold his tongue for once.

**Another chapter up and running. I checked my story traffic earlier and was surprised to find that this story is surprisingly popular. I reckon it's mostly because of the pairing but even so it was a nice little surprise! Now if only more people would tell me what they THOUGHT of it...**


	4. Chapter 4

The next days passed painfully for the Night Class. Almost twice as painfully as the week leading up to Yomoriko's arrival had been. None of the vampires, save for Shiki, knew her very well but even so it was exceptionally difficult for them to watch Yomoriko slowly waste away. Every day that passed made her look a little paler, a little _weaker_, and the students – remembering of course that vampires or not, they were still just children for the most part – watched her furtively, as though she were an elderly human in hospital somewhere, waiting on her last breath.

They were afraid. Most of them had never witnessed the death of a comrade before. Oh, they'd killed Level E's sure enough, but Yomoriko was no Level E. She wasn't even an _enemy_ vampire, from what they could tell – she was nothing like Hiou Shizuka. She was part of their class, a potential friend, and they had no other choice but to watch her die, unable to stop it.

Some tried to talk with her – to make her see what a fool she was being – but she brushed their attempts aside as if they were nothing. The awful truth was, for as much as they wanted to help her, she didn't _want_ to be helped. Not by them. In fact, whenever someone was brave enough to approach her she became distant and icy, speaking only in answer to the questions they asked or to certain things they said. No matter how nice they tried to be – and some had tried _very_ hard to be nice – there was always that undercurrent of hatred to her tone.

Aidou Hanabusa in particular had thrown himself into an effort to reach out to Yomoriko in friendship. He'd showed her around – granted it was on Kaname's orders but he still _did_ it – and he'd chatted to her with that devil-may-care, playboy charm of his; the one that had melted many girls' hearts over time. He would never admit it but talking to her was a task in and of itself for him; he wasn't used to girls' who were completely oblivious to his suave attitude. But he kept trying. Because like everyone else, there was an integral part of him that didn't want to see her die. It was what the humans might call a form of 'compassion' but what the vampires would claim was more like 'camaraderie'.

Kuran Kaname too had spoken with Yomoriko in an attempt to boycott her suicidal hunger strike, though on his part it was more from an understanding of Shiki's point of view rather than through any _real_ concern over the girl herself. In many ways Yomoriko reminded him of Yuuki; defiant to the point of recklessness, strong willed enough to be frightening at times and, though he had yet to actually _see_ it, the potential to be a bright, bubbly young girl with the world at her feet. Many times he'd imagined – _reluctantly_ – how he'd feel if this were Yuuki before him and the thought was so terrifying to him, so utterly beyond the realms of his most horrifying nightmares, that he couldn't _help_ but want to stop her. But although she showed an infinitesimal amount of respect more for him than the others, his words still fell on deaf ears.

In fact the only ones in the class who hadn't even _tried_ to talk to Yomoriko were, surprisingly enough, Shiki and Rima. The pair had been somewhat quiet – more so than usual – since that night and neither had gone anywhere near her – Shiki, because he was hyper aware that he was the _last_ person she wanted to talk to, and Rima because she wasn't the type to worry over someone else's stupidity. But more drastically (and most _noticeably) _they hadn't spoken to _each other_ since then.

Rima was... confused by the recent events. She had never before thought it possible for her to _dislike_ Shiki or to be contemptuous of him in any way, but that was _exactly_ how she currently felt. She knew it was probably selfish of her – after all it was _his_ life – but she felt incredibly betrayed by his negligence to tell her about any of this. They were friends... more than that even. They were closer to each other than they were anyone else in the _world_. Why, then, had he kept such a massive secret all to himself? She would never do the same to him. It made her wonder if perhaps she'd overestimated the strength of their bond.

Shiki on the other hand, was _desperate_ to talk – both to Rima _and_ to his little sister. It didn't show on his exterior but he was afraid of losing them both. He was afraid that Yomoriko was going to die before his very eyes; afraid that Rima would decide she didn't want to be near him anymore; afraid of being alone again. If watching Yomo kill herself was difficult for the likes of Aidou and Kaname-sama, it was almost impossible for Shiki. But he didn't know how to stop her.

For Yomoriko herself, each day spent at the ridiculous sin against nature that called itself Cross Academy was a day closer to her death – a time she waited for with bated breath for she knew that time would bring her the peace she'd so longed for since the day of her brother's treachery. She wasn't entirely sure what being at the Academy could achieve, if anything at all, but the chairman had requested it of her – had practically _begged_ her. So she would do this one small favour for her figurative saviour since she could repay him no other way. Besides, it soothed her to see the vampires so discomforted by her situation; especially that _Senri_.

Those monsters... those despicable, vile, deplorable beasts in human form... how she _hated_ them. How she _loathed_ them – and herself – for just living . Vampires were an evolutionary backlog; a race that had no buisness being in this world which was rightfully the humans'. They drunk the blood of the innocent, maimed and killed through no other reason than they were _hungry_. They were demons. And she _hated_ it. Even the monsters at Cross Academy who _claimed_ to want peace with humans weren't worthy of the gift of life. They should take a leaf out of _her_ book and repent, before they did something they regretted. Like she had...

How long had it been since that day, she wondered? How long since that horrible night that overshadowed even the eve of her kidnap by that no good waste of space, Rusuke? It was hard to say for sure. She'd been serious when she said her nights blended into each other these days. She honestly wouldn't know any different between being in a coma for a day or being in a coma for a year. It was all one; and she'd stopped asking how long she'd been out for a long time ago.

When Rusuke had taken her away from Senri and her surrogate mother, Yomoriko had been forced to live a tough life. She'd been locked away in a room somewhere – to this day she had no clue _where_, exactly – for a very long time, receiving only enough to keep her alive by a hair's breadth. As she grew older she questioned more and more why there was any reason for them to keep her there; she wondered why they kept her _alive_. Most importantly, she started to question why she should just sit around obediently and _let _them keep her there. Apart from a few random, unpredictable visits to her father – who, for reasons she was never filled in on, was so close to his _own_ death it was almost funny – there hadn't been much to break up her long imprisonment...

Until she escaped that is...

How she managed it was still unclear but at long last, after seven long years of misery, Yomoriko had broken free of the shackles of fear her father bound her in. Her memories of that time were vague and fuzzy at best; the only thing she recalled with any sort of clarity was that it had been sometime in her twelfth year, although even _that_ she couldn't confirm certainly because she'd forgotten her birthday years before.

She'd fled the room for good that fateful day. The building too. Heck, she might even have fled the _country_ for all she knew! But she'd never stopped – no matter how far she got it hadn't been enough. She kept going, day after day, month after month, until at last she'd fainted in the bosom of some godforsaken human city, dead to the world as the rain pounded her thin back like bullets.

Then _he'd_ come. A boy of fifteen, human, with dark brown hair and bright green eyes... and a smile that could charm an executioner. When she'd come around he'd been there, smiling at her as if he were truly thankful for her existence – as though by being alive she had given him something precious. He'd reminded her, _painfully_, of her elder brother Senri (who despite all that had happened, she still loved with all her being deep down) and for a time she had seriously considered drinking him dry and moving on. But the feeling he gave her in her soul – the feeling of being _needed_ by someone again after so long spent as nothing more than an ornament in her father's collection – was too sweet for her to relinquish so easily.

For some time after that, Yomoriko made that little city her home. She lived with the boy – Taijo, was his name – and his family for about a year and a half, breaking bread with them, joining in their games and sharing in their happiness. For them she'd willingly walked in the daylight hours, putting up with the sunburn and the headaches because it made her feel like she was one of them – like she could really live together with them for as long as their meagre lives would allow. For them she had starved herself of blood for insane periods at a time – for to drink _within_ the city felt like a treason to the good people who had taken her in. When she'd absolutely _had_ to feed she'd left the village in the dead of night to find a meal elsewhere; but always she came back before morning to greet her makeshift family at breakfast.

She should have known it could never last. Vampires were cursed beings; monsters that _should_ have died out long ago or better yet, never existed at all. Once a monster, always a monster.

It had been a beautiful sunny day when it happened, right in the middle of June. Hot and bright just as summer should be. Yomoriko had been enjoying a book loaned to her by Taijo some days before, reading it under the shade of a large, sprawling maple in the family garden. Her head was pounding – something she'd long since grown accustomed to – and the sun was slowly frying through the layers and layers of sun cream she'd lathered on that morning, but she was content. Even the thirst clawing at her belly was mere background noise on such a day.

Taijo had come out to show her something or tell her something – she forgets which because in the end he never got the chance to tell her – and he'd tripped over his shoe laces, cutting himself nastily on some sharp stones.

The blood hadn't been particularly plentiful; it was just a shallow scrape after all. But it had sent her into a frenzy of madness and blood-lust; at that time she'd been every bit as wild and untameable as a level E. Even now she could still hear Taijo's horror-struck screams and his mother's helpless wails as she entered the garden to see Yomoriko bearing down on her son, sucking his blood with that demonic look all vampires possessed during feeding...

He'd died that day. Killed by the girl he'd rescued and had come to think of as his sister and friend, a fate he'd neither asked for nor deserved. And Yomoriko hated herself more every day for it. She _hated_ that she was alive while someone as wonderful as Taijo had been forever erased from this world. _Hated_ that vampires existed at all. And _hated _that she was one of them.

Obviously she'd had to leave that city – that _one_ place she'd managed to find happiness again – behind. She'd travelled wherever the wind took her, crossing miles and miles without ever looking back. Because to look back brought only pain and like the cowardly beast she was, she was too scared to suffer anymore of it than she already had. That very day she'd vowed never to drink blood again, not _ever, _and from then to now she'd kept to that promise vigilantly. Even when chairman Cross had found her wandering, even when he'd taken her into his Academy, she refused to drink. She wouldn't even take the blood pills...

...Because an abomination like her didn't deserve pity or reprieve.


	5. Chapter 5

"Thinking of something _nice_, bloodsucker?" a rather sour sounding voice interrupted Yomoriko's thoughts.

Yomoriko turned to face her unwelcome companion with a condescending smirk, the moonlight emphasising the shadows on her face and making her look like more than ever like a skeleton. Not far from her, standing stiffly with a face like thunder, was the white haired boy she'd seen patrolling the school grounds at night sometimes. His lilac eyes were full of a hate that she reckoned could _almost_ surpass her own and his right hand twitched marginally every few seconds as though itching to grasp a weapon of some sort – a gun, she knew, for she'd seen him point it at that fool of a vampire, Aidou, many times already. _Just how much goading, _she wondered still smiling mockingly at him, _would it take for him to lose his temper and shoot me?_

"Bloodsucker?" she drawled, leaning back against the bridge handrail calmly and studying him with a mixture of distaste and amusement. "_You're_ a fine one to talk, my friend. In fact if _anyone's_ the bloodsucker here it's _you; _I haven't fed in many months now but you, by the smell of you, fed barely five minutes ago. Am I right, Prefect-san?"

The boy – whose name was Zero, she recalled Aidou-_senpai_ saying once – narrowed his eyes angrily and raised his hand to the front of his blazer where she guessed his gun known as the 'Bloody Rose' was stowed. After a moment's hesitation in which she saw the conflict between his duty and his personal vendetta flash across his eyes, he dropped it again and stalked across the bridge, drawing level with her and leaning against the opposite handrail, never breaking eye contact.

"You know what I am?" he asked casually, tone mistrustful and cold.

"It's hard not to with a sense of smell as heightened as mine; small side effect of starvation in a vampire, see?" Yomoriko chuckled, closing her eyes briefly. The wind across her skin felt nice this evening – refreshing, _soothing_. Such a feeling made her optimistic. Perhaps tonight was the night; perhaps she was going to die this evening.

"I see." Zero murmured.

The pair sat in silence, neither having anything of consequence to say to the other, sharing a mutual contempt for one another and indeed, vampires in general. Why they sat _together_ neither really knew. It could have been for the unobstructed view of the starry night sky or maybe – more _likely_ if either was given to being honest about such a thing – it was the subconscious comfort derived from being in close proximity to someone who shared their thoughts and feelings regarding vampires. Thoughts and feelings only those in the particular situations Zero and Yomoriko found themselves in could ever have a hope of understanding.

"For curiosity's sake," Zero started guardedly after a silence that had stretched far beyond the boundaries of what any _human_ would consider to be awkward. He kept his gaze directed firmly at a spot just over Yomoriko's left shoulder, something she found amusing but vetoed the urge to mention for now. "why d'you do it?"

She knew what he was referring to and couldn't help but let out a dry, humourless chuckle, her mood darkening as she was forcibly drawn into the very thoughts she was so desperate to escape.

There were many reasons for her self-inflicted purgatory – so many in fact that if she were to list them, she was sure she'd miss at least two or three. The most obvious was for Taijo, the boy whose life she'd stolen in a careless moment when her control lapsed – some twisted, self-destructive part of her felt that starving herself was not only an adequate punishment for her sin but a satisfying way of exercising the control she _should _have had back then. Then there was her remarkable childhood spent, for the most part, musing over a suffering that even now she believed would never have happened if she'd been born human.

However experience had taught her that it was neither healthy nor entirely possible to lie to oneself. In truth, though it shamed her – or _would_ have had she not been so far gone already – she mostly did it to see Senri agonize over her self-immolation. It was a guilty pleasure of sorts, like being on a diet and scarfing a sly chocolate bar after the gym. She wanted him to _watch_ as she died, wanted him to feel _real_ regret for abandoning her all those years ago when they were children. It was cruel and sick but she didn't want to be the _only_ tortured one anymore – she was tired of being the one who endured all life's warped jokes while Senri ambled along quite the thing, untouched by the sorrows she'd faced. So what if it was sadistic? As much as she hated it, she _was_ a vampire. Sadism came with the territory.

"Hm... _Why_, you ask?" she trailed thoughtfully, glancing at her feet for a moment in contemplation. At last she looked up and her ruddy eyes locked onto Zero's icy lilac ones, a small smirk twitching on her face at words as yet unspoken. "I guess... the _real_ reason is because I want to hurt my brother. Nothing more; nothing less."

"Spoken like a _true_ leech," Zero commented, neither shocked nor surprised by her claim – a claim that no matter how you dressed it up, was a lunatic's line. He met her stare with equal audacity, making her feel like he was peeling apart her skull and peering into the poisonous fog of her thoughts within. "But nonetheless a lie. Hard as it is for me to admit, you don't _look_ that heartless – in fact you look almost human. Yours aren't the eyes of a sadist vampire bitch; yours are the eyes of a sad, lonely little girl."

"And I suppose _you_ can profess to know the difference?" Yomoriko countered slyly, covering the irritation she felt at his words with that shrewd tone she used when she didn't want people to know they were close to the truth. "No offence but your track record in judging others' characters isn't the most inspiring."

"Perhaps not. But if I'm _wrong_, why are you so defensive all of a sudden?"

That brought her up short. But Zero wasn't done yet.

"You know what I think? I think the reason you're starving yourself has nothing to do with _hurting_ your brother at all, whoever he is. I think you do it because you want his attention; you want him to _see_ you and for whatever reason, you think this is the way to do it." He paused, letting the words sink in to the now frozen girl, seeing – and to an extent, _enjoying –_ the fury that manifested itself in her eyes. "You're like a kid, throwing a tantrum just so he'll pay attention to you."

"Yeah, well what you _think_ and what _is_ are opposite sides of the coin, friend." Yomoriko said coldly, her grip on the handrail tightening half from the stress of having this know-it-all Level E-to-be put such a fact – for, she realised, that was what it was – into perspective for her, and half from the familiar wave of dizziness and black emptiness that was one of her regular blackouts; or perhaps, as she had hoped not so long ago, the clutches of death. "What about you, Kiryuu-kun? What of your reasons for _not_ starving yourself, huh?"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean, _parasite_?" Zero demanded, voice dangerously low, his hands fisting angrily in his pockets. If she didn't watch her step, she'd soon find herself breathing through a _new_ hole in her head.

"It _means_ exactly what it _sounds_ like. Unlike me, you were _born_ human – you know what it's like to be one of them. Where does that leave you then, High-And-Mighty-Prefect-san? Are you Kiryuu-kun the vampire or just Kiryuu-kun the monster who feeds on his own race?"

Zero's next move was fast – faster than Yomoriko, in her blood-deprived state, could follow. The sound she made, which was _supposed_ to have been another snide, acid soaked remark about cannibalism, was a choked, breathless gargle resulting from her windpipe – fragile enough from a long time without blood – being crushed to the critical point between completely blocked and just _barely_ open. The blockage was, of course, caused by an ever increasing pressure exerted by Zero's tightening grip around her throat – something that contrary to logic, seemed to be combating the urge to pass out rather than assisting it.

Far from being afraid, Yomoriko watched the pale-faced prefect with some grotesque mixture of interest and enjoyment – his move, unexpected and surprising at first, was _exactly_ the kind of thing she'd originally been aiming for.

"_You don't know __**anything**__ about me," _he hissed, bringing her face close to his as he spoke. His rage – impressive and strong enough to rival her father's – was like a physical blow; a wall of substance crashing into her suspended form like a tsunami. "You think I _chose_ this? You think I _wanted_ to be a bloodsucking abomination? Drinking blood may not be the way I _want_ to live but at least I'm not giving up!"

Yomoriko pulled at his fingers, trying to loosen them enough to make speech an available commodity once more, but she was too weak to even budge them slightly. Zero watched her struggle briefly before releasing her, allowing her to drop heavily to the bridge where the thick fog of unconsciousness threatened once more to engulf her, returning with double ferocity.

She gasped greedily at the air despite herself, taking in as much as she could and yet always feeling that it wasn't enough. When at last she felt able to talk, she glanced up at Zero through crafty eyes shaded by her rouge hair.

"_I _don't know anything about _you_? That may be true, Kiryuu-kun, but don't presume to understand anything about _me_ either." she wheezed, fighting in earnest now against the black eating away at the corners of her vision. "Just because I was _born_ vampire, doesn't mean I ever wanted to _be_ one. Do you think _I _chose this? I no more want to be what I am than you do – the difference is, _I'm_ doing something about it."

It was no use. The warm folds of that dark blanket were too inviting – too _comfortable_ – to resist any longer. Unable to control it, Yomoriko slid forward, falling face first to the cold concrete of the bridge. She watched as Zero's feet first stood stationary, his pragmatic eyes no doubt studying her from high above, then approached her slowly and deliberately. Before the very last vestiges of her awareness faded into that nothingness she swore she heard him speak again.

"Idiot vampire," he said gruffly, and she felt herself lifted into the air by two strong, muscular arms. "Doing something about it and giving up aren't supposed to be the same thing."

Then... nothing.

**Not much of Shiki and Rima in this one... Sorry about that – I realise that for some of you, that's the only reason you're reading this. But this scene was necessary to the story as you'll find out in a couple of chapters. The next chapter's all Shiki and Rima, so think of it as compensation.**

**It's official! I've completely finished this story now; all I need to do is read the chapters over and edit before I post them. This means updates will occur every 2-3 days like clock work! Isn't that cool?!**


	6. Chapter 6

Elsewhere, Shiki had finally rediscovered his spine and was on his way to Rima's room to talk with her about... well, everything.

She hadn't showed up for class this evening – something Ichijou had graciously informed him was _his_ fault – and her absence had weighed heavily in the forefront of his mind all night. His biggest concern was that she might decide to leave Cross Academy – a tad melodramatic and a step too far perhaps but Rima had never been known to just grin and bare something that bothered her. It was one feature among many about her that Shiki liked and respected but one that he hoped she wouldn't act upon – the thought of her leaving was like fire in his stomach.

As he stood awkwardly outside her bedroom door, Shiki remembered the way Rima had tugged protectively at his shoulder as his little sister had glared at him with that murderous look in her eye. He remembered how Rima was _always_ looking out for him, even in the littlest of ways – ways that he had failed to notice until now. Like how she seemed to have an infinite supply of pocky, specially for him; or how she never complained or objected on the rare occasions when he bit her without asking first; or how she was always just _there_ for him whenever he needed her, regardless of the time.

Shiki came to realise in that slow, epiphany-like way that was characteristic of males in general, _exactly_ how important Rima was to him. His life these past few days without her had been hard – harder even than living with the knowledge that he'd sold his own sister to the devil – and he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't live without her forever. He _needed_ her. She was as essential to his continued existence as air; if he didn't get her back soon he was going to suffocate.

Armed with this surety and determined that he wasn't leaving until she forgave him, Shiki knocked on Rima's door with three short raps. She'd know it was him. In fact he'd wager she already knew he was there well before he knocked. But this was the moment of truth; the moment when she'd either open the door or tell him to get lost. He wasn't leaving no matter what she said but, ever the lazy layabout, he hoped she'd make it easier for him by just opening the door and giving him a chance.

She did. The door swung open almost immediately and Rima stood placidly in it's wake, dressed casually in a pale pink nightdress, the thin straps of which showed off her slender, creamy shoulders beautifully in the candlelight beams of moonlight. Her hair, usually impeccably groomed into the bubblegum-cute pigtails on either side if her head, fell about her shoulders in a messy blonde waterfall. But neither of these things held Shiki's attention for very long. What entertained his interest most was her smooth legs flowing easily from beneath the lip of the nightdress which ended – _cruelly_ he couldn't help but feel – about midway down her thighs. Such an article of clothing should, in his opinion, be registered as a dangerous weapon.

What could he say? He _was_ a man after all.

"Shiki." Rima nodded coldly, waiting for him to speak with that patient – yet somehow dangerously _im_patient – air that only a woman of Rima's dignity could ever pull off. Shiki was hyper aware that although she had opened the door – thus giving him the _opportunity_ to explain himself – she was by no means above slamming it in his face. His minutes were numbered.

"Rima." Shiki nodded in return, unable – despite his distress at the notion of losing her – to sound any less emotionless than he normally did; such were the results of a lifetime spent allowing himself to become more and more puppet-like. "Can I come in?"

Rima made a gesture with her hand to show him he could and stepped away from the door to let him pass.

"What do you want, Shiki?" she asked when he was comfortably seated in a high-backed armchair near the large window. She herself perched on the edge of her bed, watching him carefully, _waiting_ for something – something he wasn't entirely sure he would be able to give.

For a long time he didn't answer; he merely watched the stars wink at him in the midnight sky outside, wondering if perhaps this was a waste of his time after all. He didn't know what to say. Or rather, he didn't know what it was Rima wanted to hear. All he could really do was hope she knew him well enough to understand what it was he wanted her to _know_.

Rima, for all her professional use of 'the cold shoulder', wasn't sure what she was waiting for either. She'd let Shiki in – a decision she hadn't realised she'd made until the door was already open – but now she wasn't convinced it had been such a good idea. She'd always known he had a hard time conveying thoughts and feelings, and was sometimes so rigid in his attempts that it more often than not came across sounding rude or insulting. This had never bothered her before because she had never needed to _ask_ his thoughts or feelings; she'd known them instinctively. To an extent she thought she still understood him with that same almost psychic certitude. But on the other hand, this business with his sister had shaken her and she'd be the first to admit she was emotionally unstable at present. She didn't want him to say something he didn't mean and have her loose her cool over it.

"I wanted... to talk." Shiki said slowly – hesitantly, Rima thought. He was really putting in a lot of effort to fix things between them, she realised. And although this alone didn't _solve_ their issues, it certainly helped her feel less hostile.

"About?" she prompted, sounding every bit as detached as he did.

Shiki finally looked at her, his cool blue eyes betraying a child-like fear that plucked at Rima's heartstrings. _He's afraid of something,_ she noted, overjoyed that their period of animosity had not dimmed her ability to read him like an open book. His face, as empty as Aidou's head, seemed to glow in the moon's opalescent light.

"Us." he stated, and to anyone other than Rima it would have sounded as though what he'd intended to say was '_weather_'. She raised an eyebrow at him – something any other would have taken for disbelief or muted sarcasm – but said nothing, waiting for him to continue in his own time as she knew he would. After a few tense seconds in which she could practically _sense_ him gathering his thoughts, Shiki spoke his mind – or as much of his mind as his robotic tendencies would allow.

"I'm sorry, Rima." he told her, sounding like a world-weary bingo caller. He held her eyes with his own and prayed to a God he couldn't be sure would listen even if He _did_ exist that she would read him like she used to and know his intentions. "I never meant to hurt you by keeping Yomoriko a secret. I just... I thought she was dead. I didn't want to bring something like that up when I was happy enough to go on without her."

He wasn't certain whether Rima had understood or not. Indeed, wasn't certain she'd react quite the way he wanted even if she _did_. But as he opened his mouth to further explain he found that no more words would come – he'd spent his small wealth of sentimental explanations and he could force no more. So he simply sat there. Waiting and wondering. Rima would either forgive him or she would tell him to get the hell out and never darken her doorway again.

She opened her mouth slowly and Shiki braced himself, hoping for the best and expecting the worst. What came past the petite blonde's lips was not the dismissal he had expected; but nor was it the kind words of forgiveness he had desired. Instead it was something so shocking that for long minutes he could do nothing but stare, wondering anxiously whether he'd heard right or if it was some delusional trick of his mind. And for the life of him, he couldn't decide which he would prefer it to be.

"Kiss me," Rima ordered.

Her voice was the same practical, matter-of-fact tenor Shiki was so accustomed to but the words on her tongue made no sense to him. _Kiss her?_ As close as they were, they had never participated in such shows of affection before – some unspoken agreement stated that their relationship went as far as drinking from one another and no further. Some vampires – _all, _if he were being honest – believed that drinking another vampire's blood was the ultimate symbol of love, far surpassing a mere kiss by leagues, but to he and Rima the drinking had been an everyday thing. It had been a _friends_ thing. If he were to obey her and kiss her, he would knowingly take that relationship to the next level...

Rima knew this too; he could see it in her eyes and the set of her jaw. She may be able to read _him_ but he was just as capable of reading _her._ She _wanted_ to take that step with him. She wanted them to officially become more than just friends.

"_What_?" Shiki asked, trying to buy himself some time. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to take that step with her – in fact he could think of no one else he'd rather take that step with. It was just that looking at his mother and father's relationship... and Yomoriko's mother's as well... he didn't want Rima and him to end up like that. He didn't want make this move and regret it later.

"You heard me, Shiki. Kiss me." Rima heard herself say. She was just as stunned, if not more so, by her demand than Shiki was. She hadn't intended to say it – she'd only meant to tell him he was forgiven – but the words had somehow slipped out on their own.

Shiki stood and walked across the room towards her, his steps steady and deliberate. He examined her reaction to his approach very closely and saw no hesitance or reluctance there – she truly _wanted_ him to kiss her. He wasn't sure whether that frightened him or not but he continued to advance on her nonetheless. When he finally stood directly before her, a good head or so taller, he rested his hands gently on her slim shoulders, looking down into her pale face and searching for some sign that she wanted him to stop. There was none.

Then gradually, because he had never done something like this before, he bent slowly and let his lips start to close the distance to Rima's.

It was at this moment that Ichijou, the omnipresent jester of the vampire colony here at Cross Academy, decided to burst in. Shiki and Rima flew apart faster than blinking, managing to look completely innocent by the time Ichijou turned to face them. In the blonde-haired, green-eyed joker's arms was the limp almost _dead_-looking form of none other than Shiki Yomoriko.

**I'd like to take this opportunity to thank rorudesu-chan for not only giving an absolutely fabulous review on the last chapter but also for writing the story that inspired _this_ chapter. It's called 'Kiss for Boredom' and I thoroughly enjoyed it – I recommend it to those of you who have enjoyed my story and haven't yet read it. ^_^**


	7. Chapter 7

"Thank goodness you're here!" Ichijou exclaimed, spotting Shiki and allowing the relief to flood his face unchecked. Carrying Yomoriko across the room with ease, he set her down on Rima's bed gently before turning to the pair with an expression that bespoke deep anxiety. "Kiryuu-kun brought her here a minute ago but he wouldn't tell me anything. I think it's serious this time; listen."

Obediently, they both listened intently and at first could hear nothing amiss. Amplified by their vampire-strengthened hearing, they could hear the normal sounds of a peaceful night; the musical tinkling of water from the stream which cut through the school grounds; the whispering rustle of leaves in the chilly night time breeze; even the gentle trod of light footsteps made by a patrolling prefect nearby. All perfectly usual sounds by anyone's standards.

Underneath those ordinary nocturnal noises was the clearly descernible – and for obvious reasons, far more appealing – thud of their heartbeats, strong and healthy in their chests, accompanied by the thick, liquid gurgle of fresh blood being pumped around three separate bodies...

...only _three_?

Horrified understanding dawned on Shiki and his crystalline eyes snapped to Yomoriko's pale, ghostly face.

She wasn't dead– not yet, at least – because he could still see her thin chest rising and falling like that of a sleeping baby – frighteningly irregular and incredibly shallow. But what was more disconcerting was the fact that even with their vampiric hearing they were unable to detect her heartbeat; surely in such as state as she was her death could only be minutes away, _if_ that. This was it; Shiki Yomoriko's last moments had come. And her brother, outwardly as cold as the snow in which he'd abandoned her, was frozen in sheer disbelief, unable – or unwilling – to accept what was happening.

Shiki _loved_ his little sister – loved her as deeply as he loved Rima, though in a completely different way. He knew this _now_ more clearly than he ever had before, the absolute conviction behind the emotion detectable even to one as puppet-like as he. He supposed he'd _always_ loved her; even the deep rooted certainty that she was dead had done nothing to change that.

And so it was with this in mind that he raised his arm woodenly to his mouth, pulling back the sleeve of his white Night Class blazer as he did so, and bit down ferociously on the soft flesh there.

The blood flow was instantaneous, filling his mouth with it's iron tang and making him want to gag – for whatever reason his own blood had always tasted foul to him. It was neither nutritionally beneficial nor appetizing in the slightest – but this was something he had to do. He could only hope it would work.

"Shiki!" Rima gasped in surprise, forgetting, for once, to maintain her exterior.

Shiki ignored her and removed his arm from between his jaws, wiping the blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand. He approached Yomoriko, limp and unresponsive on the bed, and slid his un-bitten arm under her head, pulling her into a sitting position easily. Prying her lips apart gently, he settled his wounded arm against her mouth and waited – he hoped, though at this point it seemed unlikely, that the vampire in her would taste the blood and work on it's own, drinking as much as she needed to recover her health.

Why did he bother? Simply because, puppet or not, it wasn't in him to just let her die. She'd probably hate him for it even more – if that were possible – but at this point he was willing to accept that outcome. Even if she hated him, even if she wished for his death, he would _not_ abandon her again.

At first nothing happened and Shiki's heart sank horribly; was fate so cruel that it would rob him of his sister _again_? Would he not even have the _chance_ to redeem himself?

Then, with a sound like air being released from a tyre pumped to bursting point, Yomoriko took a deep breath and – eyes still closed – latched on to the wound, fangs deepening the injury further. She drank the blood forcefully and Shiki bit his lip from the pain her greedy suckling inflicted on him, forcing his facial features to remain static. He watched in relief as Yomoriko drank deeply, the colour returning to her in a flood like the light of sunrise travelling across land and sea alike.

With the colour came a gradual and somewhat unwilling return to consciousness – Yomoriko's eyes snapped open and she peered around blearily, trying (and obviously failing) to understand why she was still alive when she had been sure that this time round she was a goner. She spotted Shiki and her eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of anger and bewilderment; he was so close, enough so for her to touch him, which struck her as odd seeing as he hadn't _dared_ venture so close in all the time she'd been at the Academy. Then she realised there was something in her mouth, something damp, thick and oh-so-delicious... and suddenly she understood.

With an enraged, wordless scream – muffled in part by her elder brother's arm but mostly by her seemingly uncontrollable need to drink the blood seeping from it – Yomoriko started heaving at his broad chest. When he ignored her – to her ever increasing fury – she pounded at him fiercely, yet somewhat ineffectually, with tightly balled little fists, desperate to break the contact and prevent herself from drinking any more – after all the more she drank, the longer it would take to die.

Shiki held her tight, seemingly oblivious to her rebellious – and as time wore on, _strengthening – _attempts to break free, while Rima and Ichijou stood awkwardly by, feeling like they were interrupting something highly private. He held the back of her head by the hair, forcing her mouth against the wound with a single minded coldness that surprised even himself. He wouldn't _let_ her die; not right in front of him; _not_ like this. If she wanted to die she'd have to do it somewhere else, _away_ from him.

Rima _tried_ not to feel resentful; she _tried_ not to think about the fact that someone else, some other _girl_, was drinking Shiki's blood right in front of her. The knowledge that she was his sister didn't help matters either because after all, incest wasn't looked upon in the vampire community with quite the same level of disgust as it was by the humans. In fact if anything, Yomoriko being his sister made it so much worse – for the sake of maintaining bloodlines and the unique gifts associated with them, it was very common for siblings to marry. Encouraged even! Now that it had come out about Shiki's sister, was it not reasonable to think their parents would want them to be together? Rima didn't know about Yomoriko but Shiki was more of a non-confrontationist; she didn't think he would argue should someone order the pair to be married.

And it was here that Rima finally understood something she _should_ have known all along – there was _never_ any hope for her and Shiki as a couple. Even if Yomoriko hadn't existed, they could _never_ be together. Because the fact was her feelings were unrequited – he hadn't even wanted to kiss her; it stood to reason that if he _did_ think of her the way she thought of him, he wouldn't have so much as hesitated. She cared for him_ so_ much, would do anything for him, but he didn't feel the same way. And he didn't need Yomoriko around to help him see that – he'd have discovered it himself in the end anyway.

So that, as they say, was that. The only tie that had held her to Cross Academy – the only _real_ reason she'd stayed as long as she had – had finally, inevitably been severed. And with it something much more important; something she couldn't give name to but knew had died nonetheless.

She would pack later, she decided silently. For now, she had to get out of that room (_her _room) before she suffocated. It hurt too much; her heart felt like it was in the clutches of some awful demon's claws, being squeezed so tightly she thought it might burst like an over ripe tomato. It would serve her right as well – someone stupid enough to believe in a ridiculous fantasy with happy endings like she had deserved nothing less.

_Vampires don't _have_ happy endings._

She spun away from the sight of the Shiki siblings on her bed and stalked out of the room with all the speed she was capable of, not daring to look back nor think about where she might go. She'd return to her room later – for the _last_ time – and then she'd get the hell out of there. For good.

"R-Rima? Rima! Where are you going?!" Ichijou called after her. She didn't give any indication that she'd even heard him. And by the time he made it into the corridor with the intent of talking to her about her strange mood these past few days, she was long gone leaving not even the hint of a trail in her wake.

The escapade, brief as it had been, had been observed by Shiki with a gloomy almost-frown from his position on the bed. He wished with all he had that he could go after her _now_ but knew that was neither possible nor the wisest course of action to take at present. Right now his sister needed his blood – _needed _but didn't necessarily _want – _and he was bound by the obligation of being her elder brother to give her it. But it wasn't only that – he was bound even more tightly through the debt owed her after his _last_ failure to save her. Besides that, Rima wouldn't _want_ to see him. And when Rima didn't want to see someone that someone would never reach her no matter _what_ they said. As much as it pained him, he would have to wait until she'd cooled off before he tried to find her.

As Yomoriko's struggles steadily increased in both ferocity and frequency, Shiki slowly came around to the idea of letting her go. She had enough blood in her now to last another three months at _least;_ that would do for now. But if she thought for even a second that this was the last, she would be sadly mistaken. There was no way Shiki was ever going to watch this happen again; he was never letting it get this far again so long as he had breath in his body to prevent it.

He loosed his steely grip and Yomoriko flew back from him like a bullet fired from a gun, thin trails of blood dripping nightmarishly from the corners of her mouth where two thin, razor sharp, white points could be seen peaking over her lower lip. Her eyes, the crimson red of a vampire deep in the throes of blood-lust, were literally aflame with loathing as she glared venomously at him, and her lean muscles – newly restored by the hot blood rushing through her veins – rippled with new-found power and intensity.

Shiki watched her as she raised a shaking hand to her mouth, feeling the dampness left there with an almost incredulous disbelief. Withdrawing it, she saw the tell-tale red that glistened on her pale fingertips like ruby wine and could do no more than stare in shock and frustration. Then, in a measured movement that came across as a little strained to Shiki, Yomoriko curled her hand into a tiny fist that shook with barely suppressed rage.

"You _bastard_!" she hissed at him, sounding like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "Do you have _any_ idea what you've _done_?!"

**Hm... I reckon there'll be a few frustrated readers out there who were hoping for a little more Shiki x Rima development, huh? Well you'll just have to be patient. Don't worry – I predict that in little under a week this story will be fully posted. Only three chapters left. Just to let you know, the last one's quite big (bigger than the other chapters at least). **


	8. Chapter 8

Indifferent as always but for the slight narrowing of his icy blue eyes, Shiki met her frightening gaze with an unperturbed one of his own. "I saved you – nothing more, nothing less."

At this Yomoriko laughed, a high-pitched maniacal sound that was unmatched in insanity by anything Shiki had heard before. Her face, now the healthier pale of a harvest moon rather than the sickly ghost-like aura of before, contorted in a crazed sneer that made even the indomitable Ichijou (who had returned to the room after his failed attempt to catch up with Rima) want to back away.

"_Saved me?! _Is _that_ what you think?" she screeched. "You haven't _saved_ me, you fool! You've damned me! I was finally going to be free; I was finally going to be able to rest in peace! And now you've ruined it! You were never any good at saving me Senri, you _idiot_! If you'd really wanted to save me you'd have let me die tonight!"

"I won't do that, Yomoriko." Shiki replied in his calm, almost lethargic way, addressing her by name for the first time since their confrontation the day of her arrival – addressing her for the first time full stop actually.

Ichijou – glad for once to remain a spectator – cocked an eyebrow at his old friend, giving him a strange look that he either didn't see or _did_ but refused to acknowledge. It was beyond the blonde's ability to comprehend how the guy could remain so _calm_ when the situation was turning ever more sour by the second.

"Oh, that's_ right_. I forgot you finally found your backbone after our some ten years apart! How silly of me; Senri-nii is _noble_ now. Senri-nii is _brave_." Yomoriko snarled scornfully. "Where was that valiance when I actually _needed_ it, Senri? Where was my saving when I _needed_ saving? I'll tell you where; half way across the yard with his tail between his cowardly legs, _that's_ where!"

He didn't reply this time because in all honesty, he could think of _nothing_ to say. What she'd said was true; he _hadn't_ been there when she needed him. But he was here now. Wasn't that enough for her? Couldn't she see he was _trying_ to put things right? Or was she really so blinded by her hatred that she wouldn't recognise his effort?

"It's funny really," she chuckled blackly, managing to make it sound like someone had made a tasteless joke at a funeral. "All those long years I spent in that damn prison I kept thinking you'd come; kept telling myself you hadn't _really_ abandoned me. But the days turned into months, the months turned into years and I got no closer to freedom. Even when I finally escaped on my own – yes Senri, I _escaped_ –," she giggled madly, seeing the tiny change in his eyes at her words – the subtle glitter of thinly veiled surprise that turned the ice to rippling water. "- even then, my only thought was to somehow get back to you and mom. I was a stupid, deluded brat – happy endings aren't for vampires and I should have _known_ that by then!

"...Then I met _him,_"

Her voice became tender, the wild edge of madness dissipating for the first time since her awakening. Had things been a little different, Shiki supposed this was the kind of thing he'd have gotten overprotective of her for – that saddened affection in her voice as she spoke about the boy she obviously liked. But things weren't different and he spared no more than a passing interest for the subject.

"Who?" Ichijou asked, unable to help himself. He was far more romantically inclined than his statue friend was and the unspoken adoration in her tone called to that part of him that saw through rose-tinted glasses. Yomoriko's eyes softened and when she resumed she seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Taijo." she whispered, as if that explained everything. Although it was Ichijou who'd asked the question, it was Shiki she directed her speech at. "He took me in when I was on the cusp of death; nurtured me, gave me a home and a family to love again. He gave me a reason to _live_ – something my real family couldn't provide I came to realise after meeting him. He was human but he never suspected me; never shied away like most humans did. I was happy there. I _loved_ him. And I loved his family. But of course," she laughed humourlessly. "love between humans and vampires never ends well, does it? I killed him. Nearly got his mother and little brother too. The people who were good enough to take me in, the ones who'd loved me like their own daughter – and I thanked them by decimating their family. _That_ is the true nature of the beast that calls itself _vampire_; _that_ is the creature that masquerades as human."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Shiki interrupted. He was finally understanding – if only a little – the warped mind of his little sister. She'd been through so much and all because _he'd_ been too afraid to help her when he had the chance. But why was she bothering to tell him anything? It's not like he deserved it.

"Why? Because you have to _understand_, Senri!" she yelled, throwing her arms in the air. "You need to know _why_ I don't want to live anymore! It's your fault after all. Might as well let you see the full extent of the damage so that maybe, when I'm dead, you'll look back and _regret_ it. This isn't over – I _will_ die before this year's over. Maybe when I'm gone and you're living out your sham of a life with that pretty blonde who was just here, you'll _remember_ me."

Whether it was the mention of Rima or the surety with which Yomoriko spoke of her own demise, Shiki couldn't fathom. But his self-control snapped completely with her last sentence and – moving on autopilot – he moved faster lightning and struck her harshly across the cheek with enough force to make Ichijou wince. The resounding 'thwack' was loud and ominous, reverberating, it seemed, off the four walls that made up Rima and Ruka's bedroom. Yomoriko reached up to hold her now glowing, red cheek, glaring balefully at him.

"Struck a nerve, did I?" she sneered indignantly. Shiki grabbed the front of her uniform and pulled her up to his face with a rough tug.

"If you want to die that's fine – it doesn't look like anything _I_ say's going to change your mind," he said, still – amazingly – as calm as the surface of an untouched pond. "But I won'tlet you do it here. Stop making everyone _watch_. I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry I left you. But I was only six, Yomoriko; what could I _really_ have done anyway? Everyday it's haunted me, the thought of what might have happened to you and _every day_ I've hated myself for letting him take you without a fight. I loved you Yomo; I still do. But time has moved on and I'm not going to let you hurt my friends anymore. It's time to let it go."

Yomoriko stared at her older brother in stunned silence, pondering his words distantly, like listening to thunder rumble far off in the mountains. _He loved her?_ How many times had she wished she could hear him say that again? How many times over the years had she wished to just be _with_ him again – as the little sister she used to be in days that seemed too far off now to have possibly been real? His confession, as stoically as he'd said it, pulled at hear heart with painful, almighty jerks. Senri lovedher? He _loved_ her? She'd wanted to hear that – and to _believe_ it – for _so_ long...

In a spark of intuition – or something equally as mystical – she knew that Senri meant what he said. He _did_ love her, more so than she thought should really be possible given the circumstances. And for the life of her, she didn't know quite how to feel about that. It's what she'd wanted but, regardless of what she'd said earlier, it had still been one of those things she thought she could never have because it was just a _fantasy_.

If nothing else sensible came from her tangled mess of thoughts and half-feelings, she realised she'd been terribly unfair to her big brother. He was right; he'd been a six year old little boy when Rusuke kidnapped her, regardless of how _she'd _viewed him. Even if he'd been brave enough to help her, it would only have ended with them _both_ being taken. And with that understanding she found that her opinion hadn't changed; she _still_ deserved to die, though the reasons were different now – what she'd done to Senri these past few days was unforgivable...

Suddenly, with a clarity that was almost painful, Yomoriko recalled the words of the silver haired boy she'd spoken to earlier that evening – the one with the attitude. What was it he'd said?

_ 'At least I'm not giving up!'_

Was he right after all? Was that all she was doing in the end? Just giving up?

Unable to do anything else, Yomoriko raised her arms; they were heavy and numb but she managed it, the aches as remote as if they were someone else's. A sob ripped from her throat and she launched herself at him, wrapping arms around him tightly as the cries tore through her, turning her into little more than a stuttering wreck.

Shiki didn't resist – he understood that this was her way of apologising and he hoped it would end the self-destructive path she'd set herself on at long last. He hoped maybe she'd find that peace of mind she so longed for.

**Forgiveness isn't something to be bought or sold, begged nor borrowed, restrained or stolen; forgiveness is simply something to be given unconditionally, for who among us can claim not to need it?**

**A little philosophical statement I thought was appropriate for this chapter. :D**


	9. Chapter 9

The next evening Yomoriko was gone. Just like that; pure and simple _gone. _The Cross Academy vampires didn't know for sure but they thought she'd slipped away during the daylight hours as they slept, taking her scant belongings with her to wherever it was she'd decided to go and leaving naught but a farewell note addressed to her brother on the bedside table. It was Ichijou who'd discovered the letter and he'd faithfully presented it to Shiki before class, unopened.

Shiki had been neither surprised nor worried to find his little sister's absence – in fact he'd predicted it, even as she'd hugged him the night before; he'd felt it through her skin as clearly as one feels a breeze through an open window. Thus he opened the letter only out of passing curiosity, just to see what she could possibly have wanted to say before disappearing from his life once again.

_Onii-sama,_

It read in flowing feminine writing.

_There's so much I'd like to say to you... a letter isn't NEARLY enough to do my thoughts justice. As you've probably figured out, I've left Cross Academy – perhaps for good. I can't say for sure because I honestly don't know. The time might come when I return but for now I feel my place is elsewhere. I'm not sure where yet; when I find it I'll know._

_ You apologised last night for not saving me all those years ago... I want you to know you have NOTHING to apologise for. You were a child, the same as me, and deep down I was glad you'd escaped even if I couldn't. I realise I've been bitter all these years over something that neither of us could control – my suffering led me to point the finger and for that I am very sorry. I love you very much Onii-sama; know that that will never change no matter what._

_ You were right. It's high time I let go of the past and move on. I've been free for three years now and yet in those three years (excluding the time I spent with Taijo) it's been almost as though I was still a prisoner – something I'm sure our father had PLANNED for me; it shames me to admit I've played right into his hands. So I'm letting go. I want to see the world; I want to LIVE. I think I'll visit our mother – I've missed her so much. After that, who knows? We'll meet again, Onii-sama. I promise._

_ Look at that! I'm rambling, huh?_

At this point in the letter there was a dark smudge where the ink had gotten wet and run. _She was crying_, Shiki thought.

_I'd best get going now but before I do there's one last thing I wanted to say. The pretty girl with the pigtails – I think she likes you. Maybe you already knew that, I don't know, but I wanted to offer you some sisterly advice. She strikes me as the kind of girl who waits around for no man – not even you, Onii-sama – and I saw her last night on my way to bed... I think she's planning to do something drastic. If you haven't done it already, you have to find her and stop her. She's perfect for you and just between us, I'd like having her as an Onee-san._

_ Good luck_

_ Yomo-chan xxx_

_ P.S. Do me a favour and pass this message on to Kiryuu-kun: Thank you. I'm not giving up either._

As he finished his sister's letter his thoughts were drawn back to Rima with the inevitability of day following night. He didn't need Yomoriko to tell him she was going to do something drastic; that very same thought had occupied his mind fully since he'd left Yomoriko the night before. He hadn't seen her since she'd fled her room and for some reason, hard as he'd tried, he hadn't been able to find her before the rising sun had ordered him to his bed. Yomoriko's letter threw in to sharp light that which he had already considered; that Rima may have decided to leave as well.

Shiki knew Rima better than most and he knew her mind as clearly as he knew his own – better than he knew his own, even. It seemed likely to him, frighteningly so, that she'd probably taken the previous night's events to mean something more than they did, and now she was intent on leaving the Academy.

He doubted she was gone _just _yet; Yomoriko may be crazy enough to wander in the daytime but Rima certainly was not. If one took that to be infallibly true, there was no way she could have left without him noticing. So now the only question left was when she _would_ do it.

Sighing in anxiety and exhaustion, Shiki pressed his fingertips to his temples, massaging soothing circles into his flesh and remembering with a twinge, the same ministrations performed by Rima when class had been draining and the night was too long.

_Tonight,_ he thought wearily, walking away from a bemused Ichijou towards the classroom and what promised to be a frustrating lecture on recent advances in the field of nuclear physics. _She'll try her luck tonight._

Tonight, when classes had finished and everyone was in their rooms; _that's_ when she'd make her move. She'd sneak out while everyone was too busy to notice her and if that happened Shiki knew he'd _never_ see her again. He couldn't let that happen – not now, not ever.

If she wanted to leave that was fine; but she'd find herself with a permanent travelling companion.

**I realise this was a short chapter – it's supposed to be. It's what you might call an anticlimactic interlude. Anyway the point of this note is to let you all know the final chapter will be posted tomorrow, since this chapter was fairly short. The last chapter is a lot longer than this one – it's the longest chapter in the story. So look forward to it and with it, the conclusion of this story. **


	10. Chapter 10

It had taken a while but at long last Rima was on her way out the Academy gates. Everyone had come back from class just as she'd finished packing – all according to plan – and although she'd had a close call when Aidou'd dawdled on his way to the bathroom, no one had spotted her on her way out. Which was _exactly_ the way she wanted it. She didn't want to waste time on goodbyes when it could only increase the chances of her seeing Shiki before she left – it was better for them both if they never saw each other again.

The air was cool and clear this evening; fresh, like the caress of water over inflamed skin. Over head Rima could hear the branches of the trees move and sway as though waving their own private goodbye to her. It made her... sad somehow. She'd tried to think of this decision of hers as a new beginning, one where she wasn't tied to Shiki in a relationship that would only ever be one sided. But no matter what she told herself she couldn't stop the melancholic nostalgia in her heart – this felt much more like an ending than a beginning.

And it wasn't _just_ Shiki, although he was certainly the most significant part. Rima knew she was leaving behind many irreplaceable friends too; Ichijou and Aidou, Akatsuki and even Ruka. She might never see them again. Might never share a meal with them again nor fight a level E. Even the thought of never sitting through a long, boring night of classes again made her heart feel heavy. She hoped they'd understand some day; hoped they'd forgive her for running away without a word. The fact of the matter was, she just wasn't strong enough to watch Shiki's love with another girl grow while she stood on the sidelines...

Adjusting the backpack on her shoulders she turned her thoughts to more pleasing musings. Like how beautiful the moon was tonight, it's pale beams setting her likewise pale skin aglow. She admired the star studded sky, it's inky depths holding everything and nothing in their midst, remembering nights gone by when she and Shiki would...

… when they would sit together under similar blankets of glitter, never talking and never needing to, letting things that could never be expressed with words pass between them silently.

_...It's no good,_ she thought remorsefully, sighing so softly that not even _she _could hear it, the wind snatching it from her lips even as she released it. _My memories are saturated with him. I can flee his presence but he's always going to be with me in my mind and heart. _

A dampness on her cheeks made her stop and reach up in bewildered surprise. Sure enough, her fingers grazed the salty wetness of tears and – feeling like a royal fool – she let out an embittered laugh, wiping at her eyes roughly and internally scolding herself for such abnormal behaviour. She'd seen so many things in her lifetime – things that _no one_ deserved to see – without shedding a single tear. Deaths, betrayals, fights... Rima had endured these tests and more through time. Yet here she was, breaking down over some _boy_.

_But he's not _just_ a boy. He's Shiki Senri– _my _Shiki._

Or _was,_ before Yomoriko came along and sunk her claws into him. Everything had been _perfect_ until then. Rima wished that girl had never shown up in the first place – she wished she _had_ died after she'd been kidnapped. She wished...

No. That wasn't fair; it wasn't Yomoriko's fault and blaming her was a cowardly way of avoiding the cold, hard truth. Things would never have worked between her and Shiki anyway – he wasn't meant for her and that was that. This was just destiny's way of letting her know that.

She scrubbed the remaining tears from her face and focused on simply putting one foot in front of the other. For now, she'd have to be content with just that, taking each day as it came, one step at a time. It would take time but Rima was confident she _could_ get over Shiki, eventually. She would have to; there were no other options.

She heard his soft, easy breathing a fraction of a second before he actually spoke, shivers raging up her spine with no outlet – she _refused_ to regress into one of those pitiful Day Class girls, who shook and shuddered with misdirected emotion when one of the vampire boys dared to even glance at them. Repressing them was uncomfortable but it was preferable to letting him see how _affected_ she was by his presence.

"Leaving without saying goodbye?" that well-loved voice – _heartbreakingly_ familiar – asked nonchalantly. "That's a little rude, even for you."

She didn't turn to face him though she knew _exactly_ where he was, silently admonishing herself for not noticing sooner. This was going to be more painful than she'd originally anticipated – but then there was little in her meagre life that had _not_ been so.

It took all the courage and willpower she possessed to keep her voice from breaking as she replied, keeping her back to him so he wouldn't read the agony buried in her icy eyes. Her face, she knew, was perfectly composed – Shiki himself couldn't pull a better poker-face than the one she wore at that moment. But that meant nothing at all when he could read her eyes as easily as reading a child's first alphabet book. She could wear a mask if she wanted but he'd still know what was going on beneath.

"Goodbye." she said apathetically, forcing – quite literally – her suddenly weighty legs to carry her to the wrought iron gates. Before she'd taken more than three steps Shiki called out to her again, this time with a subtle note of desperation in his strong, unemotional timbre.

"So that's it then? You're going to leave without even telling me why?"

"The 'why' doesn't matter." she whispered, though she'd stopped short at his accusation nonetheless. Her eyes fluttered shut, light as butterfly wings and she knew her will had broken. It would be impossible to leave without first settling this – she should have known she couldn't leave things hanging as they were anyway.

"It does," Shiki argued and she heard him push off the tree he'd no doubt been leaning on – the idea of him standing by himself, without the aid of a wall or something to slouch against, was laughable – and move towards her, quiet as a wraith. "It does to me. I don't want you to go; I won't let you unless you have a very good reason."

"Let it go, Shiki." Saying his name _hurt_. It burned in her throat like molten metal, searing it's way down to her stomach and settling like a lead ball. Of all the times she'd been injured before, the bites and scratches she'd received from Level E's and even the occasional wounds courtesy of another noble, were nothing to the pain she felt now. "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm going and you can't stop me."

"Can't I?" he whispered in her ear, hands locking around her tiny wrists as they hung by her sides like dead branches. She hadn't known he'd managed to get quite so close – wasn't sure whether she'd have tried to stop him even if she _had_.

Immediately Rima started to struggle and if it weren't for the fact that Shiki was so much _bigger _than she was, she'd have had no problem getting free. In a brief but intense surge of anger, she allowed a current of electricity to fizz and spark harmlessly in her hands for a moment, before reining it in again – no matter how badly she wanted to escape him, she couldn't bring herself to hurt him. Going limp she raised her head skyward to the moon, more in an attempt to stem the traitorous tears forming in her already bloodshot eyes than anything else.

"Tell me what's wrong," Shiki murmured into her hair as he rested his chin on her shoulder – a gesture of laziness rather than emotive affection.

It was then that Rima understood so perfectly, something that should have been clear since the beginning of this conversation; Shiki already _knew_ why she was leaving. He _knew_ how she felt and why leaving was the only option – he just wanted her to _say _it. This was so uncharacteristically cruel of him – so unbelievably brutal – that when she replied she found herself shouting, a hysterical edge to her voice that she didn't like but couldn't control.

"Why don't _you_ tell _me_?" she yelled frantically, pulling away with a frustrated jerk, all impassive pretence sliding like cheap shoes on ice.

Shiki, sensing a deep frustration in her that _could_ – if he was dumb enough to push her too far – get him zapped, let her go this time without complaint. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Rima was _completely_ misunderstanding his intentions – the ice he skated was getting pretty thin.

"I already _know_ you want to be with Yomoriko, Shiki! There's no need for you to come out here and rub it in my face! _That's_ why I'm leaving!" she cried, the tears she'd been trying to hold back starting to leak from her orbs of impenetrable frost. She knew that later, when she eventually managed to get away from this hell of her own making, she would berate herself for showing such weakness, but for now she did nothing to stop them, glaring at Shiki with a heartbroken grimace of pain. "But you already _knew_ that, didn't you?"

"Touya, I..." Shiki tried taking a small step towards her, his hands reaching desperately for hers across the gap between them. He could feel that very gap widen with each millisecond that slipped through his fingers and he was only too aware that the longer he waited, the more difficult it would be to bridge that gulf. But finding the right words – the ones that would heal everything between them like magic – was proving troublesome. "I don't want you to leave. Don't go, Touya... _Don't_."

She flinched at the sound of her birth name coming from his lips – it was the first time, to the best of her knowledge, he'd ever called her that. There had been a time not so long ago when she'd have given her left arm to hear him use her name like that; but now it only stung. It was like pouring a vat of vinegar on a fresh cut. The meaning of this, doubled with his request, was not lost on her and for a few agonising moments she couldn't talk through the thick lump in her throat. When she _did,_ her speech was so choked and distorted she thought he'd be unable to understand anyway.

"You're not stupid; you _know_ how I feel about you." she whispered, tone more subdued, almost _accepting_ of the situation. It was more like her usual tone, the heartless façade that only Shiki had ever been able to see through. "I'm sorry, Senri. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to stand by you as nothing more than a friend. I want you to be happy so I won't interfere with you and Yomoriko – you have my blessing and I wish you both an eternity of happiness together. But I can't stay with you and it's selfish of you to expect me to. So goodbye, Shiki Senri. _Goodbye_."

Turning on her heel, Rima marched to the gate with her head down, tears that didn't seem to want to stop rolling down her cheeks and striking the pavement beneath her feet like raindrops.

Shiki watched her stoically for a moment, total denial and shock bubbling in his overloaded brain. Despite his best efforts she was _really_ going to leave and there was nothing he could do about it. She didn't believe anything beyond her own warped interpretations – she wasn't _listening_ to anything he said and couldn't _hear_ anything he wasn't saying. He cursed himself and his inability to show emotion; cursed his puppet self with every ounce of his being.

But as Rima crossed the threshold of the Academy grounds, something in Shiki snapped free of it's shackles and reared it's head in an angry, belated howl. He didn't know _what_ it was and was too miserable to speculate but whatever it was propelled him at a run towards her disappearing back. _This isn't over yet. I won't let it be over yet. _Such thoughts, that were his and _not_ his, bounced around his skull like rubber balls.

If Rima heard his footsteps she gave no indication, continuing to walk away from the place that had become her home in the absence of anywhere better to go. She didn't want to see the look on his face; didn't want to give him the chance to convince her to stay. From now on, as far as she was concerned, it would be her, the open road, the memories and no one else.

To say she was surprised when Shiki grabbed her waist from behind would be an understatement; but she didn't have time to wonder about it when he spun her roughly to face him and sealed her protest with a tempestuous, demanding kiss to the lips.

Her eyes widened and her hands automatically went to his chest to push him away, but his grip was strong and unrelenting. His eyes were closed and she studied his face with her enhanced vampire vision, spotting the softest, most subtle contours that no human would _ever_ see. His russet hair fell over his face in flowing, gentle spikes and ticked her nose as his tender mouth moved over her unresponsive one. These things she loved most about him were closer than they'd ever been and she couldn't help taking the time to fully appreciate it, even if she didn't understand it.

Though Rima wanted _desperately_ to resist him – for this could only hurt her more when she finally left – she gradually relaxed into his arms and allowed her suddenly exceedingly heavy eyes to close. She opened her mouth and – without ever making the conscious decision to do so – slipped her tongue out shyly to meet his, not entirely sure what it was she was doing but enjoying it in spite of herself. Soon her arms rose of their own accord and encircled his middle, pulling him into her as though she was afraid to let go – and she _was. _Unbelievably so. But that didn't change the fact that she would _have_ to, sooner or later.

Shiki was gentle with her, holding her like a fragile doll that could break under the weight of his stare let alone his kiss. His lips were caressing and his tongue tantalisingly slow, dancing with hers as they'd danced together at the many formal functions they'd attended. _Do you see, Rima? _he thought, willing her to hear him. _I _do_ feel the same. I _do.

When they pulled apart Rima had to keep herself from giving a little cry of anguished loss – it was the equivalent of having a part of herself torn away. She knew it was probably for the best but it didn't make it hurt any less.

"What was that for?" she asked, half-terrified of the answer but needing to ask anyway.

"Because you asked me to." he replied, placing a hand on either cheek and serenely stroking her face with his thumbs. The look in his eyes as he gazed deeply into hers nearly made her cry again – there was too much in those depths for her to absorb in one go but something, some unnamed force there, filled her to bursting point with unbearable hope. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest and she _knew_ he could hear it too but all he did was smile, a tiny uplift to the corners of his mouth that only she would be able to identify. "Yomoriko's my sister, Rima, nothing more. She could never mean the same to me as you do."

"But..." she argued quietly, trying – for a reason she couldn't fathom – to prove her theories right. Shiki shook his head, cutting off all her objections before she could truly voice them.

"You can still leave if you want." he said carefully. "But if you do, I'll just follow you. I'm not as tied to this place as you seem to think; there's only one thing I'm tied to and I'll follow it anywhere, even if it's far away from here."

Rima couldn't speak. She wanted to believe what he was saying so badly but wasn't sure if she dared.

They were silent for what felt like forever until at last Rima pulled him close, resting her head on his warm chest and breathing in the strong, rich scent of his blood. Shiki's arms twined around her tiny form protectively and she reflected that she'd never felt safer – a strange thing for a seasoned vampire to think but she thought it nonetheless. She believed him, she decided. Believed what he was trying to say, believed in his protection, believed in _him_. She was willing to take the chance because he was Shiki and she was Rima and together was the way they were meant to be – she knew this now with the same certainty she could hear those three unspoken words echo around them and wondered to herself how she could ever have doubted it.

There never _had_ been a need for words between them. And as she pulled him down so his neck was level with her mouth; as her razor sharp fangs dug into his flesh; as she heard his muted, breathy sigh; as she drank his warm, delicious blood, feeling the intimacy of the act as a lover would for the very first time; she knew there never would be.

**There we go! All done. I know I said I'd update yesterday but you wouldn't _believe_ the day I had – I locked myself out my room at uni, my washing didn't dry properly in the cheap ass washing machines and to top it all off, I wandered along to a class everyone neglected to tell me had been cancelled. It's days like these I wish I'd just stayed in bed.**


End file.
